


Spiked

by Sycophantism



Series: Media Controls by UnknownSpy [2]
Category: Media Controls (UnknownSpy)
Genre: Gen, Light Sadism, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 16:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycophantism/pseuds/Sycophantism
Summary: Stop bumps into someone unpleasant from his past in the bar, and becomes unwillingly acquainted with the unsavory effects of some new Drinks.





	Spiked

**Author's Note:**

> "[Copy] enjoys see others in pain and seeing them suffer." Damn girl me too.

It was a floating sensation, bubbly and tingly, and Stop muffled a laugh that threatened at his throat. Oh, that felt strange as well. Humming as he took another sip, he angled a look at Shuffle as she chugged down her drink. Immediately her hair fizzed out, crackling and static-electric. Normally he might have commented on it, or laughed at how ridiculous an afro looked on her; instead he only propped his cheek on a hand and chuckled, dazed and buzzing pleasantly. 

Shuffle slammed her curly-furred hands on the counter, bouncing to her feet on the stool. “Another!” she called, vibrating in place as the current flowed through her body. There had been a new shipment of freshly developed drinks, and Shuffle had dragged Stop out as soon as she heard. It was adventure and mischief all rolled into one, an excuse to let loose and celebrate for absolutely no reason. For all of his gruff demeanor, Stop enjoyed their nights out; getting to try the different drinks, the new tweaks and effects they had.

Another tray slid in front of them, and Shuffle was already reaching for the tall bubblegum-to-crimson gradient calling her name. Stop rolled his eyes as she knocked it back, somehow already bored with the charge of the last one. Taking it a bit easier, he finally got to finishing his first drink, lingering in the strangely disjointed sensation of hovering outside of himself. It was relaxing-- or mixed with relaxation, he couldn’t quite tell. He liked this one.

“Next, next,” Shuffle chanted, shoving the tray toward him. Then, with something glittering in her eyes, she snatched up a short little shot and shoved it into his reaching hand. “ _This_ one!” 

“This one,” he mused, appraising it like a critic, turning it in his hand as he hummed thoughtfully, taking his time just to make her impatient. (It was a deep colour, the darkest blue he’d ever seen.) It worked, had her thumping her hands on the counter in pushy encouragement, and he snorted as he finally took the small serving in one swig. 

The ground dropped out from beneath him, his gut going with it, and he seized the counter in panic to keep from falling. Eyes widening, pupils dilating until the light in the bar was blinding, he jerked his head away-- then down, gasping as the drink threatened to claw its way back up his throat, roiling like a many-clawed glitch inside of him. Tears burned in his eyes and he heaved, pushing unsteadily to his feet-- and feeling his legs buckle, dropping him to the ground.

An arm went to catch him, then simply slid along his back as he fell. Slumping back against the counter, Stop felt every sense betray him; balance, scent, touch-- everything was tilting wildly, the smell of burning filled his head with smoke, his fingers pulsed with pins-and-needles that hurt more than tingled. He recoiled against the counter, gripping at his face as his heart pounded a rough staccato against his chest. He was dying, dying, he was dying _again_ \--

Familiar and cold, he heard laughter above him. Interspersed was Shuffle’s giggling-- no, cackling-- and he looked up, a gesture that took more effort than it should have. Copy sat on the stool behind his own, grinning down at him, raising her hand to wiggle her fingers in greeting. The sight of her brought memories of his death to the forefront of his mind, and he _felt_ the cutting pain like it was happening all over again. Anguish twisted in his gut and he doubled over, feeling the tremors wracking his body as he tried to hold himself together, tried to keep from shaking apart. 

“Oh, it’s not _that_ bad,” Copy chided, pushing a foot against his chest and flattening his back against the wall of the bar. The contact made him jerk back, slamming his head against the counter, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of her touch-- like she was sinking _inside_ of him, invading every inch that she was pressed against.

“Come on, Stop, look at me. Up here. Good.” He was staring at her without realizing, without giving himself the command to. The way she grinned down at him, he could tell that she _knew_ it was _that bad_. She’d sent that drink. Words escaped him, rasped soundlessly in his throat as he tried to shove her leg off of him. “Tut, tut. So rude. And after I spent my hard-earned bytes buying you that gift.” 

“Hey, Stop, what’s it like? Should I try?” Shuffle leaned over his empty stool, propping her chin on both hands as she grinned down at him. She-- she’d _known_ , would have seen Copy behind him. She’d given it to him.

“Ah, thank you.” Copy took a drink from the bartender, and Stop tensed at the familiar deep navy. “It’s called Abyss,” Copy went on, sliding out of her seat to crouch over Stop, grinning down at him. Paste leaned over in her own stool, her smile matching Copy’s as she watched. “And if we mix it with a little Bliss--” 

“Ablyss,” Shuffle suggested, and Copy laughed.

“Perfect.” A taller drink, pastel violet, was held in place by Paste as Copy poured the shot in. “Ablyss.” Copy set the empty shot on the bar while Paste swirled the glass until the dark blue was thoroughly absorbed into the pleasure-focused drink. Leaning back on her haunches, Copy reached out and gripped Stop’s face, tilting his chin up, pursing her lips. “Open up,” she cooed, Paste bringing the drink nearer.

“Nn--” The drink was wearing off enough that he could probably muster a few words, if not for the bruising grip Copy had on his face. Her fingers crawled along his jaw, finding the right place to dig in so that his mouth would drop open. It hurt, enough that he gasped-- and then he was spluttering, eyes squeezed shut as Paste poured the drink in his mouth. He coughed when she pulled the drink back, and Copy frowned down at him.

“These aren’t cheap,” she scolded, shaking his head hard enough that his body rocked against the counter. “C’mon, Stop. Be a good boy.” Her smile was cold, sharp, and he inhaled sharply as Paste brought the drink closer again.

The prospect of drowning wasn’t exactly appealing, and so he forced himself to swallow. Paste didn’t slow, left him scrabbling to force it all down-- he’d never been one to throw back such tall drinks, not like Shuffle, he always took his damn time-- until it was finished. The glass pulled away, Copy releasing his face, and he doubled over to hack up a lung. 

“What--” The word shriveled up on his tongue as heat flushed through his entire body, left his face feverish and his head stuffed with fluff. Jittery and shivering, he shoved at his jacket, wrenched it off with a gasp as the cool air of the bar brushed against his skin. Just the subtle breeze was enough to make him shudder, twitching as the effects of Bliss overtook him.

He’d never cared for it, not unless he was in a particular mood. It was too warm, too stifling, too-- helpless. He especially hated taking it when there were a lot of people in the bar, or when Shuffle was around; she could tease him so relentlessly when he was like this. But oh, those days when he was up for it-- that feeling of nonstop physical contact even when he was alone in the room, the bristling pleasure that crawled across his skin and embed itself in his body, like heat incarnate sinking fingers into his stomach and his chest and his neck, holding him down and filling him with euphoria.

Except it wasn’t euphoria, this time. The warmth was sharper, made him flinch as fingers turned to claws, and then the fear hit; his lungs going tight, stomach swooping, vision blurring as adrenaline slammed into him, a sense of _danger, danger, danger_. Fight or flight, maybe, but he could do neither.

Copy was above him, she swam back into focus enough for him to remember what was happening, and he thought maybe he was in danger. Just that bit of validation gave the Abyss something to run with, and his memories came flooding up again, choking him. She’d killed him, and that was enough to have him recoiling against the counter, shaking--

Warmth flooded through his system and he went rigid, everything going fuzzy and soft as he doubled over. Comfort and softness, soothing and pleasant, mingled with the rapid pulse in his throat telling him to _run, run, run_. 

Lurching upright, taking advantage of the burst of energy, he-- crashed back against the counter as Copy slammed a hand against his shoulder. Reaching for her hand with a grimace, kicking out on instinct, he twisted under her grip and fought to push himself up. She leaned her full weight down on him, flattening her arm against his chest until his lungs protested. Wheezing, he slumped back for the moment, trying to catch his breath as the anxiety trickled out bit by bit. 

Copy was laughing in delight, Paste watching with fascination, Shuffle-- drinking. Her attention could be so easily diverted from what was happening-- no, she was back, and she looked… curious. Not concerned, not defensive of her teammate. 

The heat came back, a sense of so many hands smoothing themselves over his skin, wrapping around him in an embrace comforting and sensual, his body trembling from the flood of pleasure as he gasped, arched against the counter and tried to find something to hold onto. _Be a good boy_ , Copy’s words rattling around in his head with mixed humiliation and-- _longing?_ No, not for her-- thank the system-- but for... for approval. Stop moaned under his breath, a shaking hand coming to cover his face as he dealt with this little revelation. So he got off on praise. Just what he needed to figure out about himself right here, right now.

“What’re you thinking about?” Copy asked, and she reached around to grip the back of his head, forcing him to look up at her. The sharp motion, rough and careless, nonetheless sent a pang of fervor down his spin, the Bliss running with any point of contact. He all but yelped at the unexpected spark. Copy inclined her head, then smirked. “Well? What comes to mind when you’re terrified, Stop? Is it me?” Leaning closer, near enough that he could feel her breath against his cheek, she murmured, “Is it when I killed you?”

It was, it was, and he didn’t realize the fresh heat on his face was tears until she clicked her tongue and wiped them away. “Guess so,” Paste mused, lips curling in satisfaction. Stop took the opportunity to lunge forward, catch Copy off guard, and it worked; she lost her balance, arm pinwheeling momentarily before she landed back on her rump. Scrambling, getting his feet underneath him, Stop tried to pull himself up. 

The floor skewed out from underneath him and he crumpled again. That moment of dizziness gave Copy the time to find her feet again, standing over him, and shoving a foot into his stomach to keep him down. Hunching over at the force of the impact he groaned, scrabbling at her leg to try and pry it off. Copy leaned over and dug her fingers into his shoulder, shoving him back against the counter and crouching again, her foot replaced by her knee as she drove it into his gut to keep him pinned. 

Heart beating sluggishly, Stop let his head loll back as he fought to catch his breath, every movement taxing a massive toll. He could feel his muscles twitching with exertion, limbs heavier than they had any right to be after so little struggle. 

Only after Copy pulled her knee away and his stomach remained tightly clenched did he realize how long he’d been on the ground. The Abyss was just a shot, it should have worn off by now--

Bliss overwhelmed his senses all over again, left him dangling between terror and ecstacy. He’d never taken Bliss all at once, he realized; bit by bit, enjoying the sensations a little at a time, drawing it out. It was hitting him all at once now, and the Abyss… 

The Abyss had been diluted, just enough to spread out its effect. Not for the whole duration of the Bliss, no way, the fear was still too potent for it to stretch on that long.

Stop wasn’t sure how long Copy had him pinned under the bar, drinking in the motley of expressions as he writhed and fought the flares of rapture and dread. At some point he realized the Abyss had worn off, leaving only his very current and very real apprehension about being around Copy. Copy, who’d spiked his drink and sat over him while he spun through delirium for-- however long it had lasted. Copy, who’d killed him once before and probably wouldn’t mind doing it again. 

“Get off,” he gasped, words finally finding shape on his tongue, numb as it was. 

“Oh, he’s back,” Copy said, calling Paste and Shuffle away from their conversation. “Have fun?”

“Get _off_ ,” he repeated, not sure if he could manage anything else until he wasn’t trapped on the ground by his own murderer.

“That’s no way to thank someone for buying you an experience like that,” Shuffle laughed, turning back to her own while Copy smiled indulgently down at him. 

“So Abyss is done,” she said, reaching up to cup his chin, sending a shudder down his body at the heat that accompanied her touch. “How about that Bliss?”

“Don’t touch me,” he was muttering before she was even done, and she burst out laughing. 

“Guess that answers that. What’s wrong, Stop, don’t like looking at me when you’re feeling so good?” Yeah, that about summed it up. If his body didn’t feel like he’d just fought for a week straight, muscles weak and protesting every little movement, he’d have… done… something. 

Paste hummed, swatting Copy’s shoulder with her hand. “Y’know what I never thought about?”

Copy tilted her head up. “Hmm?”

Grinning, making sure to meet Stop’s dazed stare as she spoke, Paste said, “What would it be like to die on Bliss?”

Everything plummeted around him, and maybe there was still a little Abyss in his system, or maybe he was just the right kind of vulnerable in that moment. All he could think was: _She’s going to fucking kill me again_. 

Copy looked too thoughtful for comfort, and only a challenging glance from Shuffle had her dismissing the idea of dragging Stop’s insensate body out of the city and finding out. When she turned back to Stop to speak, she paused a moment. “Oh, you don’t like that idea, do you?” Something in his expression had her bristling, thrilled, and he grimaced. The Bliss was wearing off. No, he didn’t like the idea of being killed again. Maybe especially not by Copy. 

“Oi, Stop.” Shuffle nudged his shoulder with a foot, and he didn’t bother looking up. Tonight fucking sucked. He was ready for it to be done and over with. 

“Done already?” Copy hummed, cupping his cheek and tilting his face up. He met her stare listlessly, too tired to try and fight it. She’d already gotten everything out of him, what point was there to struggling here? Ugh, he felt pathetic. “Oh well.” She stood, nudging his leg with a foot until he pulled his legs up to hug them against his chest, frowning. “Let’s do this again sometime.” She grinned, and he finally gathered the energy to glare at her. 

He didn’t move from the floor until Shuffle hopped off her stool, nudging his shoulder. “Get up, get up. We’re going.” Some time had passed, he knew that much; the crowd had thinned out, and Copy and Paste were gone. Bracing a hand on the stool beside him, Stop pulled himself to his feet, legs quaking from the emotional crash. He felt sick. 

Shuffle kept a hand at his lower back to steady him, helped him walk as they headed back. She was talking, rambling about whatever, and he let the sound of her voice turn into a background drone. At least until she nudged him, demanding his attention, and repeated herself: “I _said_ , it’s too bad you couldn’t defend yourself, you know.” She continued on, but he didn’t register anything else, mulling the words over in disbelief before interrupting her.

“That’s why?” Raising a hand to his head, already feeling the heavy pulse of a headache, he closed his eyes. “You let all that happen to… to try and make me want to fight?” Well, at least it wasn’t just because she liked to see him suffer. Though, when he thought about it, he wasn’t sure which ticked him off more.

“Sure.” Shuffle shrugged, slapping him on the back and making him stumble forward. “Did it work?!”

Staring down at her in exasperation and disbelief, he shook his head. “No.” 

“Hmm.” She cupped her chin. “I’ll have to rethink my strategies.” 

“I’m not going drinking with you anymore,” Stop muttered, running a hand down his face. 

“Whaaat? For how long?”

“Ever again.”

“WHAT?”


End file.
